


You Went Where? With Who? Mhm. Oh Really?

by musicmillennia



Series: Musket Books [6]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Hurt d'Artagnan, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4698044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/musicmillennia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D'Artagnan's school friends don't believe the most important people in his life exist. It's not a big deal.</p><p>Really, it isn't.</p><p>(Aramis, put the gun down.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Constance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3392126) by [uena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/pseuds/uena). 



> EDIT: SO SORRY for not putting in the beautiful work that inspired this story!!! I fixed it!
> 
> I woke up way too early with one thought in my head: "I want to hurt D'Artagnan."
> 
> I love the little shit; that's why I want to break him. So have some porthagnan crack with friendship and hurt D'Artagnan. :D
> 
> Title from that song, Askin' All Them Questions. Because why not?

When you have a boyfriend like Porthos, you talk about him. A lot. It's something you just can't help, and D'Artagnan doesn't even try to resist.

Basically, two days after their relationship starts, all of D'Artagnan's university friends have heard about the guy who's "built like fucking Hercules but has a heart heart of gold".

Do they believe him?

They say they do.

But they don't.

D'Artagnan doesn't know this, though. He can't pay attention to much else when he's gesticulating about Porthos. When he starts adding in bits about Athos and Aramis, however, they all start with the "yeah,  _sure_ D'Art" (a nickname he despises but puts up with out of necessity) and the "and I bet this Aramis guy's like, Spanish or something?" (which of course is followed by more laughter when D'Artagnan says Aramis does have Spanish heritage, how did you guess?)

While he's not exactly popular, D'Artagnan has a nice circle of friends and a reputation for honesty when it counts. He figured that reputation should have carried over to something as important as the man he's living with, or the friends he's become so attached to he can no longer imagine his life without them.

**Group Message: D'Artagnan, Aramis, Athos, Porthos**

**D'Artagnan (8:22)**

Did u guys kno my other friends dnt thnk ur real?

**Aramis (8:24)**

U have othr friends?

**D'Artagnan (8:25)**

Ha ha asshole. Who do u thnk I spend all my time w/ whn im not w/ u guys?

**Porthos (8:26)**

My dad & ur professors?

**Athos (8:27)**

Why do they think that?

**D'Artagnan (8:29)**

Idk!

**Aramis (8:30)**

I hve an Instagram. Hve u showed them tht?

**D'Artagnan (8:31)**

No. Good idea.

**Aramis (8:31)**

Course it is. Now u hush. G2g rub somebody.

**Porthos (8:32)**

Watch ur language. Athos can see this.

**Athos (8:33)**

Oh, he knows that.

**Aramis (8:34)**

;)

 

D'Artagnan almost snickers loudly enough to draw his professor's attention. One of the non-believers—ah, friends—nudges him before he makes a scene.

Between classes, he meets up with a couple of his friends, armed with Aramis' Instagram page. We're talking at least a dozen photos a day, all devoted to fashion designs—his other hobby besides art—his snakes, and more importantly, his selfies, Athos and Porthos.

"See? They're real!" D'Artagnan insists, shoving his phone at them. "That's Aramis, that's Athos, and  _that's_  Porthos!"

They study the phone. Look at each other. Look at D'Artagnan.

He can tell that they  _still_ don't believe him.

"I thought Porthos was your boyfriend?" smirks Kitty.

"Wha—he is?"

"Then why're you cuddling with  _Athos_  in all these pictures?"

D'Artagnan blinks. He snatches the phone back and quickly scrolls through the pictures. Sure enough, only a few of them have him and Porthos doing anything that implies they're in a relationship. The majority of the pictures featuring D'Artagnan involves him and Athos: walking arm in arm down the street, Athos petting his hair while he's wrapped around his waist on the couch, his falling asleep on Athos' shoulder that time they traveled to Nice for a holiday, Athos reading over his shoulder and leaning far too close to him, et cetera, et cetera.

D'Artagnan's eyebrows furrow. "Yeah, so?"

For some reason, his friends just tell him to get his story straight before he photoshops it.

**Group Message: D'Artagnan, Aramis, Athos, Porthos**

**D'Artagnan (10:10)**

Didnt wrk. Said I needed 2 "get my stories straight"?

**Aramis (10:11)**

What?

**D'Artagnan (10:11)**

Yeah. Accused me of photoshop

**Porthos (10:13)**

U need new friends

**Aramis (10:13)**

How dare they?! My photos r 100% genuine & amazing

**Athos (10:14)**

We know, dear.

**Aramis (10:15)**

Dnt patronize me Athos I will rub this oil in ur hair

**Porthos (10:15)/D'Artagnan (10:15)**

I dnt want 2 see tht

 

* * *

 

D'Artagnan tries offering to take his friends to Musket Books, but even Marcel—shy, sweet Marcel—is starting to look at him like he's taking a joke way too far.

He can't believe this. Finally, he's met people he can say that he loves with everything he's got, and someone he loves even more. If they'd come to him with something like this, he would've insisted on meeting them as soon as possible. For all the lies he's told, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis are not something he can fake. He's not capable of making up that kind of love.

Apparently his friends think he can. Worse, that he is.

So D'Artagnan clams up about all three of them. What's the point, if they're just going to laugh in his face?

Maybe Porthos is right about getting new friends.

 

* * *

 

 

"What's wrong?"

D'Artagnan starts. To his embarrassment, he realizes he's stopped in the middle of carrying a small pile of books to their shelf, and Athos is standing right in front of him. He starts to attempt a thin smile, but his forehead falls onto Athos' shoulder instead.

While he tangles his fingers into D'Artagnan's hair as naturally as breathing, Athos doesn't let up. He grips D'Artagnan's shoulder with his other hand and sternly murmurs his name; he expects an explanation for why his best friend is staring at Henry James like he single-handedly ruined his life.

D'Artagnan sighs quietly. "Nothing."

Inwardly, he cringes, because he can  _feel_ The Eyebrow next to his head. He actually does cringe when he hears the click of Aramis' phone camera, his friends' accusations about  _photoshopping_ echoing in his ears.

"Aramis," Athos scolds quietly.

"What? It's—" Aramis' eyes narrow as soon as he sees Athos' face. In an instant his tone switches from playful to serious. "What's wrong?"

If D'Artagnan didn't know any better, he'd almost say Aramis sounded like he was about to snap someone's neck. 

But then again, what does he know? He can't even tell the truth without coming across as a liar.

Reluctantly, but quickly, he pulls himself from Athos' warmth. What is  _wrong_ with him? His father's been dead a year and a half; he should be over this emotional lump! So what if they don't believe him? It's just—it's just...

It's just the most important thing that's ever happened to him.

Athos' taking the books snaps him back to reality. "Hey, I got that," he starts reaching for them, but Athos wordlessly sets them on the nearest table and walks back to Storage.

"Porthos," he calls, "D'Artagnan's upset."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay between the chapters, since I usually like to write things for this series in one sitting, but my schedule's started up again with the autumn, so I can only write in spurts.
> 
> Enjoy the porthagnan trash! :D

Few words can spring Porthos du Vallon into action like those two.

D'Artagnan's only warning is a worried snap of  _"What?"_ from Storage before he's suddenly swept two inches off the ground, blinking owlishly at Porthos. Because it was unexpected. Also he has to process that Porthos can literally pick him up no problem, which.  _Nice_.

"What's wrong, darlin'?" and it might be the beautiful pet name, or that sweet, gentle tone with which Porthos asks that makes D'Artagnan's heart swell; in any case, he really doesn't want to say 'it's nothing' again.

He wraps both arms around Porthos' neck and does it anyway. Although, he can't look his boyfriend in the eye. No one with a heart can look Porthos in the eye and lie to his face, it's pretty much illegal. Needless to say, his steady gaze on Porthos' forehead—it's a nice forehead, especially when crinkled with emotion—immediately sets off red flags for the other three.

"You know you can tell us anything, D'Artagnan," says Aramis.

"There's not anything to tell," D'Artagnan argues, affecting an exasperated voice even though he can tell it doesn't do shit. Good thing he's stubborn. "I've just got a lot of work to do at school, that's all. Nothing I can't handle."

Wow, he might as well have a sign that says  _I'm Lying, Please Punch Me for My Insolence_ hanging around his neck. And Porthos looks so _hurt_ , oh fuck, he's such a terrible human being, he has disgraced the world, now a puppy is going to get sick or something. D'Artagnan tries kissing the hurt away before the sun goes out, but it looks like the apocalypse is here.

Ugh, he should call his mother and apologize. What for, sonny? He made Porthos sad, mother-dear. Well then, silly child, you are now disowned, begone with you.

Yeah, that's definitely how it'll go.

D'Artagnan can withstand a lot of things, but guilt is a powerful motivator for getting the fuck out. Shortly after being set back on his feet, he stays for all of five more minutes before booking it (pun not intended).

Unbeknownst to him, he's left the other three to a staring contest/conversation.

 

* * *

 

 

Monday rolls around and sees D'Artagnan exhausted and still feeling incredibly guilty. Living with Porthos has been a dream so far, but now there's this _tension_ between them that's left him without Porthos Cuddles since that awful Wednesday in the shop.

So, no. He's not in a good mood.

"What's up, D'Art?"

 _Ugh,_ he hates that nickname so much more right now.

"Just tired," he answers Michel, "Por—" and he stops himself, as he's learning to do, which just makes his mood ten times worse. "I haven't been sleeping lately."

Trying not to talk about Athos, Porthos, and Aramis is like trying not to talk about how he's feeling. Probably because his well-being is tied directly to them now. It's a form of symbiosis he'd never thought he'd get to experience.

Not that his friends would believe him.

D'Artagnan stops in the middle of the quad and snatches his phone from his pocket. Fuck pride. He misses his boyfriend and best friends.

**Group Message: Athos, Aramis, D'Artagnan, Porthos**

**D'Artagnan (12:45)**

Miss u guys.

**Aramis (12:46)**

Wouldn't hve 2 miss us if you'd trust us hermano

**D'Artagnan (12:47)**

I kno. I didnt think it was importnt. Just my othr friends being dicks

**Porthos (12:48)**

Told u tht u need new friends

**Athos (12:48)**

What's brought this on, D'Artagnan?

"Who are you texting?"

D'Artagnan jumps. Kitty's looking over his shoulder.

"Wow, really?" she scrunches up her face. "D'Art, we get it. Joke's over. Stop changing names on your contacts!"

Seriously?  _Seriously?_

He's done.

"Where are you going?" Michel calls. D'Artagnan doesn't answer.

He gets to his next class a good forty-five minutes early, but he's past caring.

**D'Artagnan (12:53)**

I just wanted to say I'm sorry.

**Aramis (12:54)**

:O nvr thot id see the day

**D'Artagnan (12:55)**

Shut up

**Athos (12:55)**

We accept your apology of course.

 _Of course_. D'Artagnan relaxes into a grin. Okay, he feels better now.

 

* * *

 

 

The university's not too far from his and Porthos' apartment, so D'Artagnan walks home every day. He's off on Mondays now, which is nice because he'd like to collapse and sleep for the next thousand years. He feels almost as bad as when his washer had been dying a horrible death.

The incident brings a smile to his face because it reminds him that he and the others are okay again. Marcel asks what he's grinning about; he just shrugs and says it's a nice day.

His excuse is barely out of his mouth before he hears it.

"D'Artagnan!"

"Whoa," Kitty says, "Who is  _that_?"

It's Porthos. He's leaning against Roger, the special big smile on his face that every time it appears, a unicorn is born in a field of kittens. As if that wasn't enough, the universe decided to make Christmas come early by having Aramis lounging in the back of the truck and Athos already walking towards him.

"Are these the friends we've heard so much about?" Athos asks, not so much hooking as yanking their arms together and D'Artagnan lets him because his brain as exploded out his ears.

"What are you doing here?" is all he can think to ask. He knows what they're doing, of course he does; no one's ever done something like this for him though.

"I do own my shop, D'Artagnan. Porthos has the afternoon off. As for Aramis, his boss is very easily charmed, or so I've been told."

"Sorry," cuts in Michel, "did you say Porthos and Aramis?"

Athos barely spares him a glance. "Have you not told them about us?"

D'Artagnan is going to cry. Or squeeze the life out of all three of them. Or both. Both is good.

"I—yeah, of course I have," he replies.

Aramis takes out his phone and snaps a picture. It's probably the fifth one he's taken of Athos and D'Artagnan arm-in-arm this month. "What did you say about me, then? Only good things, I hope."

"Is there anything else?" Porthos teases, earning a cuff on the head. He dodges it easily and nods to the trio behind D'Artagnan. "Gonna introduce us properly?"

"Oh, yes," D'Artagnan reluctantly pulls from Athos and gestures between the groups. "Katherine, Marcel, Michel, this is Athos, Porthos, and Aramis."

Kitty squawks, "Wait, you weren't joking?"

Aramis smirks, "Why, did you think I was too perfect to be real? Flattery will get you everywhere,  _señorita._ "

He just spoke Spanish. D'Artagnan's going to kiss him. Porthos and Athos would be fine with it, he's sure.

Speaking of kisses, he snatches Porthos into one by the belt loops, partially because kissing him is amazing, but mostly so he can whisper, "I love you."

He's never said it before, not like this. He's tried to decide when the right time would be, but right here, at this moment, D'Artagnan can't think of a better one.

Porthos' grin is absolutely blinding. Aramis' phone clicks the same time he replies, "I love you too."

Athos looks at Marcel, Katherine, and Michel. "Aramis and I are happy they found each other. Then again, we are good friends." he puts a small yet glaring amount of emphasis on 'are'. "It was lovely meeting you."

Aramis cackles from the back of the truck.

D'Artagnan fucking adores them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to all who have bothered to read this, left comments, and/or kudos. You guys are the best!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
